Sherlock
Welcome to 221B
Dr John Watson tossed and turned in his bed, trying to escape the sounds of bullets being fired, soldiers screaming in pain and lives ending in front of him. He shot up in his bed, sweat pouring and heart racing. The doctor got to his feet, gripped his walking stick and walked to his bathroom, he splashed some water over his face and studied himself in the mirror. How after so many therapy sessions was he no better? He dried his face and got back in his bed and attempted to get some uninterrupted sleep.
It was just before midday the following day and he had just finished another pointless therapy session. He had decided to take a walk through Russell Square Gardens as it had been quite a warm morning so far. He was minding his own business when a voice interrupted his vacant thoughts.
Stanford: John? John Watson, how are you? It's me Mike Stanford.
John: Oh yes, Mike How have you been? It's been a while.
Stanford: Too long, I've been okay. I heard you were in Afghanistan in the middle of everything.
They sat down on a nearby bench.
John: Yes, that's right. I got shot out there and was released.
Stanford: Terrible that. So how you finding it back here in London?
John: It's alright, starting to look for a place to live permanently. Somewhere cheap, maybe share with someone.
Stanford: That can't be that hard.
John: Come on, who would want to live with me?
Stanford: That's odd.
John: How so?
Stanford: You're the second person to say that to me.
John: I see, who was the other person?
Stanford: Someone over at St Bart's. Odd chap mind you. I tell you what, I have a quick meeting to get to but in about half an hour, you should meet me at the hospital and I will introduce you to him.
John: Okay. What do you mean by odd though?
Stanford: Just wait until you meet him. I will see you shortly.
He stood up and left John sat on the bench. Walking stick resting beside him.
John sat there for a while, he looked at his watch, it was twelve minutes after midday, he decided he better be heading over to the hospital to meet with this possible house mate. A short walk and he was there and being greeted by Stanford at the entrance. He lead him to the morgue and walked into a room. John noticed a young woman, her hair was loosely tied up, her white coat a little too big for her short and small frame and a overpowering red lipstick. John turned to the man stood beside him.
John: Much better conditions than where I was.
A voice from over in the corner interrupted the silence. He was indeed mumbling to himself.
Stanford: Sherlock, this is Dr John Watson.
The man quickly studied John. He noticed his hair was combed and parted perfectly. His clothes had not one crease in and he stood in a manor that only one type of person would.
Sherlock: Was it Iraq or Afghanistan?
John: Excuse me?
Sherlock: The injury, where did you receive it?
John: Afghanistan, I'm sorry. How on earth did you know?
Sherlock shrugged his shoulders.
Sherlock: Stanford I need your mobile.
Stanford: I don't have it on me, there's a phone right beside you. Use that.
Sherlock: I would prefer to text.
John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone.
John: Here, use mine.
Sherlock: Thank you.
He took the phone and began to text.
Sherlock: Do you mind the violin or the smell of tobacco?
John: Neither bother me.
Sherlock: Would it bother you if I never spoke for days on end and do experiments.
John: What's going on?
Sherlock: You're obviously here looking for someone to share a house with. I told Stanford nobody would like to live with me then a few hours later an old friend appears here.
John: Mike, you told him all about me?
Stanford: Not a word.
John: Well how do you know about me.
Sherlock: I sized you up as soon as you walked in. hair precise as our your clothes, you've been abroad going by the tan lines but not for pleasure, you're injured but it doesn't hold you back or make a fuss of, also when you walked in you compared conditions. Iraq or Afghanistan are most likely.
John: Wow, that's clever.
Stanford: He is clever, too clever.
Sherlock: Well time for me to get out of here, do you want to come now and view the place?
John: Okay, where is it?
Sherlock: Baker Street.
John: Sounds good.
They left the hospital and grabbed a taxi from outside and made their way there.
John: You work at St Bart's then?
Sherlock: God know, I just like what they have there in the morgue.
John: So what do you do?
Sherlock: I work with the police, I'm a consulting detective. I workout crimes their narrow minds can't solve.
John: A consulting detective, is that even a thing?
Sherlock: I invented it. So yes.
They had reached their destination, Sherlock paid the driver and they got out.
John: Looks like a nice place, how did you find it?
Sherlock: Mrs Hudson is the landlady, her husband was up for death row over in America.
John: Oh you helped him for being wrongly accused?
Sherlock: No, I made sure he got charged.
John had a surprised look as Sherlock knocked on the door and a little lady in her fifties greeted them. She Hugged Sherlock when she saw him.
Mr's Hudson: Oh Sherlock dear, how lovely to see you.
Sherlock: Hello, this is Dr John Watson.
Mr's Hudson: Hello dear, will you be taking the other room?
John: Maybe.
They walked in the house and began to walk up the stairs, before John took the first step he winced at the fact of the stairs. They had reached the top, Sherlock sat down in a vacant chair as John looked around the room.
John: Well this could be nice, this could be really nice.
Sherlock: I could clean up a little if you think it needs improving but between us I think we could afford the place.
John: I think I would like that, yes I will take the room please Mr's Hudson.
Mr's Hudson: Oh great.
Sherlock: Mrs Hudson I think we should have some tea.
Mrs Hudson: Just this once, I'm not your housemaid.
Sherlock: And some biscuits.
Mr's Hudson: Again, not your housemaid.
She went to the kitchen and made the tea, and put some biscuits on a plate for the new house mates. John sat down and rested his leg. Mrs Hudson returned with the tea, put it down on the table and left Sherlock and John.
Sherlock: Well, welcome to 221B Baker street.
John smiled and thanked him.